The stone was something exceptional in fetishes, needing delicate handling. That the stone existed, he knew. There were legends innumerable about it; and an explorer had, in the early days, seen it through his glasses. Also the "ghosts clad in brass" he had heard about--these fantastic and warlike shades who made peaceable men go out to battle--all except the Ochori, who were never warlike, and whom no number of ghosts could incite to deeds of violence. You will have remarked that Sanders took native people seriously, and that, I remark in passing, is the secret of good government. To him, ghosts were factors, and fetishes potent possibilities. A man who knew less would have been amused, but Sanders was not amused, because he had a great responsibility. He arrived at the city of Isisi in the afternoon, and observed, even at a distance, that something unusual was occurring. The crowd of women and children that the arrival of the Commissioner usually attracted did not gather as he swung in from mid-stream and followed the water-path that leads to shoal. Only the king and a handful of old men awaited him, and the king was nervous and in trouble. "Lord," he blurted, "I am no king in this city because of the new god; the people are assembled on the far side of the hill, and there they sit night and day watching the god in the box." Sanders bit his lip thoughtfully, and said nothing. "Last night," said the king, "'The Keepers of the Stone' appeared walking through the village." He shivered, and the sweat stood in big beads on his forehead, for a ghost is a terrible thing. "All this talk of keepers of stones is folly," said Sanders calmly; "they have been seen by your women and your unblooded boys." "Lord, I saw them myself," said the king simply; and Sanders was staggered, for the king was a sane man. "The devil you have!" said Sanders in English; then, "What manner of ghost were these?" "Lord," said the king, "they were white of face, like your greatness. They wore brass upon their heads and brass upon their breasts. Their legs were bare, but upon the lower legs was brass again." "Any kind of ghost is hard enough to believe," said Sanders irritably, "but a brass ghost I will not have at any price." He spoke English again, as was his practice when he talked to himself, and the king stood silent, not understanding him. "What else?" said Sanders. "They had swords," continued the chief, "such as the elephant-hunters of the N'Gombi people carry. Broad and short, and on their arms were shields." Sanders was nonplussed. "And they cry 'war,'" said the chief. "This is the greatest shame of all, for my young men dance the death dance and streak their bodies with paint and talk boastfully." "Go to your hut," said Sanders; "presently I will come and join you." He thought and thought, smoking one black cigar after another, then he sent for Abiboo, his servant. "Abiboo," he said, "by my way of thinking, I have been a good master to you."